


Myths and Immortality

by the_big_lubinski



Category: My Candy Love
Genre: Gen, Multiple Relationships, No Candy Present, mythology AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_big_lubinski/pseuds/the_big_lubinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this world, there are multiple Deities and Immortals who are responsible for the things that keep the world moving, such as the seasons or the cycle of birth and death. Overseeing all of them is the Creator, who is the son of the original Creator, and his word is law. These stories follow various inhabitants of this world, such as Fauns, Hounds, Humans, and Deities, who deviate from the norm just enough to have reason to be apprehensive of how the Creator might react. Of course, it's inevitable that change occurs, and these small players might play a bigger part in the evolution of the world than any of them realize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody Wants to be Alone

The first thing he was aware of was warmth. There was absolute silence and total blackness, and a comfortable heat that enveloped him like a cocoon. The sensation felt familiar to him, despite having never felt anything else to compare. It felt like a deep slumber, and he would have been content to stay in that state forever, until a voice, deep and gentle, rang in his ear: “Wake up.”

 

His eyes shot open, and he immediately squeezed them tight again, feeling blinded by the brightness of the world. He stayed in that state for a few seconds before venturing his lids open again, this times seeing blotches of colors that he couldn’t have even fathomed before this moment. With a groan of discomfort, he tried to prop himself up, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright light he had never seen before. His arms, new and weak, failed to keep his body upright, and he would have fallen back if not for a strong pair of hands catching his head, gently keeping him in a sitting position.

 

He craned his neck, meeting eyes with another one like him, but larger. They both had furred legs set with hooves and antlers growing from their heads, though this other one had much larger antlers where he only had nubs, and his legs were big and strong, coated with a coarse black fur unlike his own soft white fur. “Hello there, little one,” he whispered, eyes full of love, “My name is Leigh, and I am your brother.”

 

“A brother?” He asked, the word rolling off his tongue and filling his belly with a warmth not unlike he felt just a few short moments ago. He relaxed into the hands of his new companion, feeling safe and protected. “What is a brother?”

 

“A brother,” Leigh explained, tucking his chin in and headbutting him gently, “is someone who is like you. Someone who will always be there for you, regardless of whether they are next to you or miles away. I asked the Creator for a family, and he gave me you.” Leigh started to stand up, grabbing his kin by the shoulders as he did so. “I promise to help you anytime you need me or my strength, and all I ask is that you grow to love me as much as I already love you.”

 

“A brother…” He sighed in contentment, deciding that this was a word that he liked very much. He tucked it into his heart, saving the word for anytime he might need it, though he could not yet understand what he might grow to need words for. “What is my name?” He asked solemnly, clinging to Leigh’s arms as his legs wobbled under the weight they were not used to carrying.

 

“I named myself,” Leigh answered, “It took me many days to say my first words, and many more to decide which one to call myself.” He coaxed his little brother into taking a step, knowing that legs could only grow stronger when they were used. “I know that the name the Creator has for us is ‘Faun’ and that this place is called a ‘forest’ and that you are called ‘my brother.’ It took me time to learn these words. You can take as much time as you need to find your own name.”

 

The little Faun was quiet, as though he was taking each word that his protector said and committing it to memory, quickly building his vocabulary. He deliberated in his mind, trying to attach meanings to the words correctly. “What does ‘Leigh’ mean?” He finally asked, green eyes open wide like cups eager to take their fill of the world and sate his curiosity.

 

Leigh did not answer immediately, instead taking his time to slowly let go of his brother and make sure that he did not totter or fall. When he was satisfied that the little faun could hold himself up, he kneeled down so that the two of them could speak at the same level. “‘Leigh’ means me. It is a word that I made for myself. I like to think that it means everything that I am, though the Creator informs me that I cannot know who I am until I have another to tell me.” Leigh brought his hand up and rubbed at his brothers velvet-like grey ears, smiling when he saw how comforted the action made him. “That is when I asked for another like me, to help me learn who I am. Now that I know you, I have learned that I was alone and that I do not wish to be that way again.”

 

“Alone…” The little one shivered, feeling the weight of that word. He understood that “alone” was the comfort he felt before he awoke to the world, and it was also the apprehension as he considered trying to understand this world without his brother to guide him. “‘Leigh’ meant ‘alone’ until there was me,” he spoke slowly, making sure each word made sense as it came from his mouth, “but now that there is ‘me’ it doesn’t mean that anymore.”

 

“Exactly,” Leigh encouraged the words with a smile. “While ‘alone’ does not mean anything other than itself, a name can mean many things, and they all can change.”

 

It was not a simple concept to introduce to someone who was still learning of words and their meanings. Even as he knotted together words and the feelings and imagery they were supposed to convey, he tucked the idea of names not being quite as tightly bound into his mind, letting all of his thoughts loosely grow with the new information that seemed to flow into his little head like a constant stream. “Can my name be Lysander?” He asked, unconcerned about where the word came from, or if it was something that was simply always with him, much like the memory of before living.

 

Leigh chuckled and stood up, towering over his brother with both his strong haunches and his impressive antlers, “A big name for such a little thing, though I imagine you will grow into it.” He held out a hand and Lysander grabbed it, noticing the contrast of the calloused hands against his still-smooth skin. “Come now Lys, this world is a beautiful place, and I want to show you as much of it as I can.”

 

Lysander’s steps were still uneven, but with his brother’s hand in his he knew he wouldn’t have any reason to fear falling on the ground, which sprouted flowers in every print his hooves left. Leigh would later tell him it was simply the result of Lysander being young and unable to control his powers that came with being a faun, but he believed in that moment that it was proof that love meant a warm hand to hold onto and flowers growing at your feet.

 

* * *

 

 

In the months that followed, Lysander learned many things. He learned all of the words for the beautiful things in his home, like trees and flowers and ponds. He learned about the kind of person his brother was. He was typically quiet, though would spare no words in regards to teaching Lysander, and had difficulties when it came to speaking with others. Lysander also learned things about himself, like that he could spend hours just thinking of words and connecting them to other words, spinning and re-ordering them until it pleased him.

 

Most importantly, however, Lysander learned about his own powers, and the powers of others. He learned how to coax blossoms out of stubborn trees, and to sing lullabies that gently pried baby birds from their eggs. Leigh had told him that Fauns were among the Immortals, deathless creatures that were created to guide the world that the Creator had made, while mortal lives were short, yet many. They were the only two Fauns, and were part of the lowest tiers of Immortals, along with a variety of creatures such as Nymphs, Satyrs, and Hounds. They all had small duties, and the Fauns were responsible for persuading life from the natural world. The second tier of Immortals were Deities, which had a relationship with mortal Humans, either in the form of Muses who inspired great works of progress by virtue of simply being near humans, or Patrons, who had greater powers and often oversaw lesser Immortals, but depended on the prayers and offerings of humans to keep their awesome power. At the top of the hierarchy was the Creator, who was responsible for all of the life in the world, and who was the one who spoke to Lysander before he awoke. The Creator was growing tired and his son would soon take up the mantle and become the new Creator, the previous one fading into nothingness as he did. The Creator was the only Immortal who could die naturally, in contrast to his total power. There were rumors of creatures known as the Fey, whose power was even stronger than that of the Creator, but no one had more substance to prove their existence than whispers and rumors.

 

Lysander learned each of these facts with an open mind, his affection towards words making it easy to note. He was an eager pupil, enraptured by his brother’s teachings, listening to Leigh speak until he grew weary. Every night, Lysander slept comfortably, unaware of the vigilant watch Leigh would keep.

 

One of these days, when Lysander had been told of many things and Leigh grew tired of talking, the two sat on a cliffside, watching the sky turn pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. Leigh had pulled some flowers from the ground and was twisting their stems together, carefully planning the placement of each color of blossom. Lysander looked out and saw a group of men and women running to a nearby pool of water, hooting and hollering in glee as they did. “Leigh? Who are they?”

 

Leigh looked up, his upper lip curling in disgust, “Hounds.” Lysander looked closer at the distant figure and noticed their pointed doglike ears and bushy brown tails. “The Creator believes that free will is not possible without an element of chaos. The Hounds exist to fill that need.” Leigh twisted a flower so hard that it’s stem broke, but he didn’t seem to notice. “They are careless and destructive, and any problems that arrive as a result of their mischief are no concern of theirs. Stay away from them Lys.” Lysander heard Leigh’s words, but as he watched the family of Hounds roughhouse in the water, he couldn’t take them to heart. “I mean it little one, we might be givers of life, but Hounds can only bring destruction.”

 

The conversation stopped as a high-pitched giggle sounded from behind them. The two fauns turned quickly, seeing nothing other than the trees and flowers surrounding the small pool of water. Lysander look to his brother for an answer, the but older Faun was too busy pointedly looking forward, his face burning red. “Leigh? You look burnt.”

 

“I-I’m fine,” Leigh coughed, and the sound repeated. Hurriedly, Leigh stood up, walking over the the clear pool of water, muttering something under his breath that Lysander couldn’t understand. The young Faun looked out one last time at the Hounds, who were having a fun time wrestling in their pool of water, before standing up as well. Leigh was kneeling over the crystal pond, grumbling. As entertaining as it would be to watch Leigh make faces at his reflection, Lysander wanted to take a look at a tree he had convinced to bloom earlier in the morning, and see if it was still doing well. It was only just behind some shrubs, still within hearing distance of Leigh, so there was no safety concern.

 

As Lysander approached the tree, he couldn’t help but smile. The tree was covered in bright yellow blossoms, and the entire clearing smelled of the sweet aroma. He touched one of the branches, and the few stubborn buds burst to life almost immediately. This gift was the best one that Lysander could ask for, and he silently thanked the Creator for making him a Faun.

 

A rustling in some nearby bushes distracted Lysander, and he turned quickly as a small child ran out, clearly disoriented. He was very obviously confused, with no idea where he was. The boy seemed to be about the same size as Lysander himself, and when he saw the Faun he puffed up. Lysander noticed the small canine ears and realized that he was face to face with a Hound pup. The two stared at each other, unsure of what to say, before Lysander finally spoke, “Are you lost?”

 

The little pup growled, in a tone still too high to intimidate, “I don’t need any help.” His stone grey eyes narrowed stubbornly, even as they darted side to side as he tried to figure out his location.

 

Lysander noted that the Hound had hair that matched Leigh’s, with that same soft blackness that reminded him of the comfort of dreaming. Despite his older brother’s words, Lysander felt no apprehension for this boy, and held out his hand to him. “I saw some Hounds playing earlier, my brother and I could take you to them.”

 

The Hound stared at Lysander’s hand suspiciously, sniffing it once for good measure, before relaxing into an easy smile. “Or… I could play with you instead!” Without warning, the Hound grabbed his hand, pulling it roughly. As Lysander stumbled, the pup poked at one of his shocked eyes, shouting loud “Cyclops! Cyclops!”

 

Lysander had no idea what in the world a “cyclops” was, and in that moment he couldn’t even think to contemplate it as he did other new words. Rather, he screamed, his eye burning with pain. The pup stumbled back in confusion as he fell to his knees, clutching at his face. While Lys had had things poke his eyes before, such as low hanging branches, he had never felt this level of discomfort from it before. It was like his eye was burning to ash from the simple touch. Even over his crying, he could hear the world around him as he clutched his eyes closed. He heard Leigh yell his name, before angrily shouting a word he never heard followed by “Creator-forsaken Hound!” He felt a pair of small cool hands touch his arms and pull him onto a soft surface.

“Hush, little one,” A new voice spoke, unfamiliar to Lysander but as beautiful as anything he ever heard.

 

“Rosalya, what-“

 

“It’s his left eye. You might want to look away.”

 

Lysander felt something lock around his burning eye, followed by a new pain to replace the previous.

 

“It won’t grow back.”

 

“Oh Creator, what’s going to happen?”

 

“This.” Lysander heard a squelching sound, and felt a cool sensation, as though his face was dipped in a pond, though he had no trouble breathing. After a few minutes that felt like years, the feeling literally washed away and water spilled off of his face. His eye no longer burned, but rather ached, like an old bruise. He blinked his eyes open slowly, feeling disoriented. He looked up to see a beautiful woman, the most amazing creature he had ever seen. She smiled, one hand over her left eye,  the open one as bright of a gold as the blossoms surrounding them. Leigh’s face hovered just beyond hers, worry etched into it like a statue. Lysander reached for a low hanging branch, wanting some comfort from the blossoms. His heart sunk deep into his chest as the new life immediately darkened to a dull brown and the flower shriveled and died.

 

* * *

 

 

“Castieeeeeel!” A pup whined, pushing at the older Hound’s leg. “Come on! Why don’t you ever want to play!?” She tried to look up at him with big puppy eyes and guilt him into some wrestling, but he wasn’t having it.

 

“Leave me be,” he snarled, pushing the pup away. Some of the other adult Hounds mumbled around him, commenting on the odd one in their pack. Castiel just rolled his eyes at their gossip, frowning at the horizon. It had been years since he met that Faun.  Stuck up, self-righteous deer-faces!  the pack would cackle and call them, citing their better-than-thou behavior and the way the older one would berate them for just having a good lick of fun. That was why the Creator had made them, after all. If their games delayed the change of the seasons or started a small fire, then it was the Creator’s will.

 

Castiel hated this about his pack, and all Hounds, is there were more. The Creator’s will?  There’s no way the Creator willed for one of his Fauns to be permanently damaged by Castiel’s touch, and now that Faun  just as capable of bringing death as he was life. That was all on Castiel, and just because his pack wanted to believe that they were above blame at all times, he knew better.

 

“Just as bad as the deer,” one of the Hounds mumbled.

 

“Won’t even take a mate,” another one added.

 

“Might as well just leave,” one Hound responded.

 

“I can hear you!” Castiel barked at the rest of his peers, spinning to face them, his ears pinning back and his tail bristling. The Hounds faltered at the sight of his sharp canines as his lip curled up. It was no secret that Castiel’s lack of humor made him one of the most vicious members of the pack, and no one wanted to test him.

 

“I agree,” a feminine voice added and Castiel faced the source with a growl. Standing there was, not a Hound, but a Nymph. Her amber eyes were narrowed in contempt, and her long white hair seemed to spill from her head like a fountain. “Leave your pack, throw yourself at the Creator’s mercy, and then at Leigh’s, and then Lysander’s.” She haughtily turned up her nose, glowering at the Hound.

 

“Rosalya,” Castiel growled, “You have about as much authority over me as a rock.” As much as Castiel was changed for what he did, his pride wasn’t fond of Leigh’s woman trying to boss him around like he was still a pup. “Though, if it will get you all to leave me alone, fine. I’m gone.”

 

He turned on his heel and walked off, his long legs giving him an immediate distance that no one tried to shrink. After about an hour of just walking aimlessly, Castiel stopped. He had to admit, it did hurt to think that no one wanted him around, and for what? Rosa and Leigh rightfully blamed him for Lysander’s pain, and Rosalya even gave up her eye so that he could see (yes, it grew back, but it still wasn’t exactly pleasant to pull out an eye) while his pack resented him for having a conscience about the event. Lysander? Castiel hadn’t seen him since, and preferred it that way. The Creator of that time had passed on and his son was the new Creator, and as foolhardy as Castiel could be, he knew better than to test the mercies of a man like that. He plopped onto the grass, laying on his back and watching the sky above him. He had heard the term “lone wolf” used for some of the wild animals before, but had never considered himself one before. While he didn’t exactly have fond feelings for any of his pack members, he knew he would miss the safety that existed in traveling in numbers. He wasn’t sure if he could live completely alone, even if he didn’t exactly want to make a big old family of buddies.

_ “I don’t want kisses, or your sweet words _

_ Nothing so fragile for me _

_ I don’t want your flowers or pretty stones _

_ Those, I can get for free…” _

Castiel sat up, the sound of song intoxicating him. It sounded like a woman singing, and if her appearance matched her voice then she had to be absolutely beautiful. His ears picked, trying to figure out where the music came from.

 

_ “I’m a lady of some value _

_ Worth her weight in gold _

_ My heart is not quite so easily won _

_ Or my love so easily sold…” _

He creeped along the grass, smelling a delightful combination of orange and honey as he came closer to the singing. He came over a hill and looked down, seeing a young woman on her knees, collecting flowers and herbs as she sung. A quick look made it obvious that she was a mortal, only a human. Yet, ‘only’ was the farthest word from Castiel’s mind as he looked upon her. Her long brown hair was pulled out her face as she worked, and her sweet melody drew him in closer.

 

_ “So move on, get out, and leave me be _

_ I have no need for your little toys _

_ I have my pride; I’ll hold my breath _

_ One man is more than a hundred boys.” _

Castiel walked closer to the girl, who noticed his presence and froze. While the fear in her face was definitely not preferable for Castiel to see, her eyes widened in a way that made it clear just how beautiful they were; like sunsets and clear days were made into one. Castiel put his hands up, speaking slowly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

“You’re a Hound,” she responded, hesitance obvious in her voice. Still, although she was scared, she stood up, facing Castiel squarely. She did not run, or shriek, or scream. At the same time, she didn’t exactly run into Castiel’s open arms, so he stayed careful.

 

“I am,” Castiel put his arms back at his sides, “but I prefer Castiel.” He smiled, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment. “Your singing is beautiful.”

 

Rather than blush and avert her eyes, the girl smiled directly at him, “Thanks.” He swore that he was going to be swallowed up by those eyes, and loved the frankness she spoke with. “I sing at the pub in the village, and break hearts while I’m there,” she shrugged, even as she smiled at her humble bragging “It puts food in my belly and a smile on my lips.”

 

“I hope you’re not too fond of that particular pastime,” Castiel smirked, taking a step towards her. She didn’t even falter as what was clearly a predator came closer to her, and he appreciated it greatly. “I’m not used to rejection, and might be really  _ hurt _  if you don’t even consider me an option.” Castiel had never made any advances on a girl before, and was concerned that his approach was too close to how he hunted, but he knew that saying what came to mind would be better than the awkward posing that he’d seen other Hounds for for each other.

 

“Oh?” The girl took a step to him as well, closing the gap between them. Even though she was shorter and looked up at him through her bangs, he suddenly felt like the prey in the conversation “What makes you so sure that I’m going to reject you?” She smiled coyly at him, and Castiel felt his heart skip a beat. “My name is Deborah.” She turned, her scent hitting his nose as she twirled, “You should come to my show tonight. I’ll let everyone know a sexy Hound is showing up, and that he _probably_ won’t eat me.” Deborah winked, strolling back to her village, basket of plants in her hand. Castiel trailed behind her, like a lost dog that just found his new favorite human.

 

* * *

 

Lysander stepped quietly through the trees, hearing the faint cries of birth from one of the deer. He came upon the pair of deer; mother and child. Both were weak, and had he not arrived then surely both would die within the hour. Instead, Lysander kneeled, pressing his hand against the newborn fawn. In his youth, his touch would bring forth his gift whether he willed it or not, but ever since the incident with the Hound, he knew that he would need to learn self control. So, he sang. There were no words, just a soft melody that the plants almost seemed to crane to listen closer to. The fawn perked up and laid his head in Lysander’s lap, gazing up at the Faun, enthralled by the song. Lysander smiled softly and stroked the deer’s head, looking at his mother thoughtful. Her breath was heavy and is was obviously hard for her to force her eyes open. Lysander placed his other hand on her head, and she immediately pushed into his palm, comforted his touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, before singing again, this song slow and deep as her eyes slid shut, her breath slipping out as the melody surrounded her.

 

The fawn didn’t seem to notice his mother’s death, instead falling asleep in Lysander’s lap. He stroked the baby’s head absent-mindedly. Lysander knew that his abilities concerned those around him. The new Creator often talked to or about Lysander like he was a broken Faun, Rosalya always wanted “justice” for what happened to him, and Leigh always acted like it was a great tragedy. Lysander learned quickly though that death was not to the animals what it was to mortals and immortals. They might mourn for a short time, but they accepted it as a natural part of life, and a soft song to gently lead you to death was often a blessing for those in pain, more than another spark of life could be. In fact, the duality of life and death seemed appropriate to Lysander, even if others bemoaned it.

 

Lysander wondered if this was why he never saw Leigh anymore. Their paths would cross and they would spend their time as brothers do, but Leigh never sought Lysander out anymore. A part of it, he was sure, was Rosalya. Ever since Lysander’s pain gave her a reason to leave her pond and actually interact with Leigh, the two had been inseparable. Oh, beautiful Rosalya, without her Nymph abilities to heal, who knows what might have happened to Lysander? The pain of death might have gone through his whole body had she not cut it off at the eye, and he would have been blind forever if she didn’t give him one of her own. Still, the gold eye did not match his natural one, and those who didn’t know that the white Faun was the “broken” one would easily guess it from his eyes.

 

Lysander did not blame Rosalya for marking him, just like he didn’t blame Leigh for spending his time with her instead of himself. It just hurt to be othered by those he loved and people he never met alike, and when Leigh preferred Rosalya’s companionship it left Lysander alone. Wasn’t what what Leigh was so happy about when he first met Lysander? Not being alone? So why did he doom his beloved little brother to the same fate?

 

Lysander shook the negative thoughts away, and gently woke up the fawn. This little one had no mother, so he would need help as he grew. It wasn’t uncommon for Immortals to keep a group of animals as their familiars for companionship. Leigh had a flock of peacocks that he doted on, Rosalya had swans that had the same fire in their spirit as herself, and it seemed that Lysander would have deer. He coaxed the little fawn to his feet, leading him to a nearby pond. He would need to find a foster mother to supply the necessary milk, but for now, a bath was in order.

 

* * *

 

Castiel leaned back in the booth, arms stretched across the back of the seat. His eyes were closed as he listened to Deborah’s performance. It was one of her regular songs, one that Castiel had helped her write, and it was one of her most popular. He heard a hoot from one of the patrons and his head shot up, a rumble of a growl coming from his throat as he glared down the man. It was mere seconds before the man visibly shrank and resumed drinking his ale, dropping some money in the tip jar for Deborah. Castiel learned quickly that the ones who were loudest with their compliments tended to want a little more from the performer, and it was best to nip this behavior in the bud.

 

Of course, it wasn’t hard to intimidate the drunks. He was still obviously a Hound, even with his abnormally red hair. Castiel learned of a human invention called dye shortly after integrating into their community, and latched onto it instantly. It separated him from the rest of the black-haired Hounds, and red was a color people associated with a lot of unfavorable things, like blood and fire, and it helped his intimidation factor. Deborah like to tease him by saying that if anyone saw him while his hair bleached they wouldn’t have any reason to be afraid of him.

 

_ “Don’t fret, don’t cry, _

_ Don’t waste a night on me _

_ We both know it won’t happen _

_ That’s not how it’s meant to be _

_ I am Love, I am Beauty _

_ I can’t be your Lady Luck _

_ I am like this only for me _

_ Not here for you to-” _

 

She cut her song off with a giggle, the dirty factor making the audience laugh. Castiel chuckled as well, even though he had heard the song more times than he could count. Though he hated to admit it, being raised by Hounds instilled him with their coarse sense of humor. Deborah stepped down from the stage and the pub’s owner, Boris, took the spot instead, making some announcements about nightly specials or openings. Every eye in the place followed Deborah as she walked over to her beau and Castiel swelled with pride. “As perfect as always,” he said, kissing her lips as she sat. He could almost feel the disappointment from the men watching.

 

Deborah laughed, “Stop showing off, Kitten.” She playfully flicked one of his ears, delighting in the blush he sported in response, half from the nickname and half from the sensitivity of his ears. “How can someone like you even find it possible to get jealous?”

 

“I’m not jealous,” Castiel replied smugly, “I just want them to be.”

 

Deborah rolled her eyes and poked Castiel in the chest, “Oh really? Not jealous you say?” She leaned back, smirking at her lover, “How about writing the next song about something other than not being obtainable?”

 

Castiel laughed, “Impossible. I’ve been with you for five years, and never once did I consider you ‘obtained’ by me.” He kissed her again, this time on the cheek, “You are the kind of woman that would die before being owned by anyone, and that’s why I love you.” Deborah smiled and leaned into his chest, tired from her performance. Castiel stroked her hair, overcome with the bliss he felt from just being lucky enough to have her in his life.

 

The next day, Castiel was on a mission. He had met Deborah five years previous, and only fell more and more in love with her each day. He wanted nothing more than the spend the foreseeable future continuing to fall in love with her, and humans had a ritual for that exact sentiment: Castiel was going to buy a ring and make Deborah his wife. He knew she got snide glances from the village for sleeping with a man without marrying him, much less a Hound, and the ring would justify their union. It would also be a pact from him to prove that he was never going to leave her.

 

“Castiel.” The Hound sneered at the voice, looking across the road to see Nathaniel. His golden hair and eyes separated him from the humans, even without taking into account the aura that marked him to those who know what to look for. The Deity was unseen by the mortals, but Castiel’s eyes could see him perfectly and his ears caught every word he said. “I know what you intend to do, and I’m here to warn you.” He crossed the street, slowly becoming visible to mortals as he did so. They didn’t even notice the transition, only noticing that an attractive man was around now, and since men don’t just appear, he must have always been there. The mortal brain often made connections that way, and it was very convenient for the Deities to work around. Of course, lower-tier Immortals didn’t have that advantage.

 

“Warn me?” Castiel gave a bark of laughter, “Did we become bosom buddies when I wasn’t looking?” While many Hounds disliked the Fauns for their self-righteous attitude, Nathaniel had that same attitude, only multiplied and focused almost entirely on Castiel. He had bothered the Hound multiple times, and Castiel hated the way Nathaniel lorded over him, using their widely different positions in the Immortal Heirarchy as ammunition. Hounds were just barely above humans in the grand scheme, and Nathaniel reminded Castiel of this whenever he could.

 

Nathaniel scowled, their relationship was not the most friendly in the world, and there was no hiding it. “No, but you are still one of the Immortals, and I feel a certain duty to keep you updated to the affairs, especially ones involving you.” Castiel blew a raspberry, making a farting noise at the unnecessary righteous tone the Deity used. Nathaniel ignored it and continued, “You’re not popular among the Creator’s hall to begin with, since childishly ruining the natural order isn’t encouraged.” Castiel’s ears pressed back, his irritation at being reminded of his childhood mistake clearly visible. Still, Nathaniel pressed on, “You pack won’t be there to back you up if you break another rule, and you’re about to. Since, after all, they exiled you, or I suppose the more accurate tale is that they didn’t have a single reason to convince you to stay with them.” Nathaniel could have gone on all day listing the reasons that Castiel wasn’t wanted, but a warning growl encouraged his better judgement, “After the Twins were born, it was decided that it is taboo for Immortals to take mortal partners.”

 

“I’m sure Dakota is crying right now,” Castiel snarled in response. The Patron of the Hunt was well known for preferring the quarry of the female mortal variety to actually hunting animals, and it was another subject of discourse among the Immortals. He didn’t have the same access to the grapevine that his pack had provided, but he still knew that Nathaniel had been ordered to chide Dakota countless times, and would likely do so countless more times.

 

Nathaniel ignored the obvious bait to change the subject and continued, “It’s not painting the town red that worries the Creator, it’s settling down and having a family. The Twins were another huge hitch in the grand plan, and having a child with a mortal woman will open you up to the same risk.”

 

Castiel shrugged, “Alright, no baby.”

 

Nathaniel scowled, “It’s more than that. Mortals are supposed to think of us as otherworldly and legendary, and your regular presence tends to ruin that.If Immortals become commonplace to the humans, they will presume to know about everything, and become blind to the Deities who need their attention to keep the world going.” Nathaniel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, “Despite what you Hounds seem to think, I’m not just here to ruin your fun. I just want to keep the peace.”

 

Castiel did not appreciate being lumped in with his kind, and especially not for that reason. He stared directly as Nathaniel, their noses inches apart. He snarled, “I love Deborah, and I’m going to love her as long as fate allows. You can try and keep me from getting her a ring or a wedding, but you can’t keep me from being with her.”

 

Nathaniel was unfazed by the threat and replied simply, “ _So brave._ Are you so sure she’s deserving of this gesture?” Castiel might have attacked him then and there, had Nathaniel not disappeared, only air where there once was the Deity. Without an outlet for his rage, Castiel settled for glowering as he stomped down the street. Deities had the most obnoxious powers, like being invisible to humans and shifting planes at will, and the fact that Nathaniel used it to get in the last word was infuriating. He knew that the perfect little prince was just trying to get under his skin, and was angry that it was working. Immortals often looked down on mortals, so of course Nathaniel would doubt Deborah’s value, and it’s the perfect thing to say to someone to try and manipulate them (which was Nath’s specialty). What in the world would the Creator do if Castiel married Deborah?

 

Castiel stopped suddenly, ignoring the startled swear from the people behind him. It was obvious; his immortality was going to be taken away. It was the only thing that the Creator could really do to him, smiting aside and it would solve the problem easily. It would also mean that he could spent the rest of  his  life with Deborah, rather than just hers. Nothing sounded better to him than growing old with the woman he loved, and he resumed his trip with renewed vigor. He was going to find the perfect ring, make the perfect proposal, and marry the perfect girl and have a perfect life.

 

That night, Castiel was ready. Rather than lounging as usual, he stood by the door, leaning against the wall. He was full of excess energy, his tail flapping against the wall as he tried to keep calm long enough to actually ask Deborah. While he usually loved just sitting back and letting Deborah’s voice envelop him, tonight he just wanted her to finish her songs as fast as possible. Someone stood next to Castiel, and he glanced over absently.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” The man asked over the sound of Deborah singing. Castiel rose an eyebrow at the casual demeanor that this mortal had, but didn’t complain. “Got a voice like a songbird too.”

 

“Best in the world,” Castiel replied, his chest puffing out with pride.

 

“Best in the village,” the man corrected. “Now, if she were to go to a big city, she could get training. Get some schooling. Maybe be a favorite of the local Lord, or even the Creator himself.”

 

“Probably,” Castiel responded suspiciously. This conversation was obviously started with an agenda, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and play into some stranger’s hands.

 

“Of course, she’d have a harder time there,” he cheerfully added. “It’s much easier to have filthy relations with a mongrel in a village like this,” he smirked at Castiel. “In the big city? No one of value would stand for it.”

 

Castiel remembered his interaction with Nathaniel earlier and turned to face the man head-on, “Who are you? And don’t bother spitting some lie about being human.” Castiel quickly decided that he could take this man in physical combat, but if he were a Deity then there were some other powers that had to be accounted for. He didn’t look familiar, but it wasn’t impossible for Deities to be demoted and have their place taken by new blood, and even when Castiel wasn’t scum to the Immortal world, he wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to the politics of Deities.

 

He laughed, “Oh, come on Castiel! Is it so hard to believe that the Creator has some human pawns as well as immortal?” The man shrugged, “Of course, your suspicion is correct; I’m here to be the discourse to ruin your lovely little love affair!” Castiel didn’t miss the fact the man cleanly avoided confirming or denying his mortal or Immortal status.

 

“You underestimate us both,” Castiel growled, knowing better than to start a fight and risk Boris’s venue.

 

“Do I?” A mischievous twinkle sparked in his red eyes. “Only one way to find out, I suppose!” He laughed. Castiel fought back the urge to bite the man, and focused on Deborah. Everyone was so eager to believe that she was easy to turn, and that was because Immortals always doubted mortals. That alone was proof to Castiel that this man was Immortal, as well as wrong.

 

“Do I get a name, at least?” Castiel said with a sneer, “Or will knowing your real name take away all of your magic?”

 

The man laughed, “Oh Castiel! You’ve spent too long with humans, got hooked on their fairy tales!” He twirled quickly, landing chest-to-chest with Castiel, their noses almost touching. “Tell me one fact about me, and I’ll tell you one fact about me! Fair trade, right?” He grinned, pressing closer to Castiel.

 

Castiel was not disturbed by this invasion of space. It was a common tactic for intimidating someone, and worked unusually well when men used it on other men. Instead, he just responded, “Immortal. You referred to human fairy tales as ‘their’ stories.”

 

The man grinned, and backed away from Castiel, “Oh, I knew I liked you.” He took off his hat, revealing a head of white hair. “Wenka, at your service. The middle brother of the three Jackalopes!”

 

“Jackalope?” Castiel glared at Wenka, “What in the world is a Jackalope?”

 

“A weapon mostly,” Wenka rolled back and forth on the heels of his feet. “Of course, there’s not an Immortal War yet, so we don’t get to do much.” He shrugged, “We’re  supposed  to be tools for the Creator if he needs us, but I think he gave us too much personality.” Wenka sighed, “If we knew each other better, I might find some intimate little corner and show you my ears and antlers, but maybe later, after your girlfriend dumps you…” Wenka winked.

 

Castiel rose an eyebrow, “Why haven’t I heard about this until now?”

 

“About Jackalopes? Well, you’re supposed to not know,” Wenka responded. “We’re a secret weapon, an ace in the sleeve, a final defense, you know? Never know who might try to overthrow the system, so the Creator and his family are the only ones who know about us, and he is the only one who can command us.” Wenka stage gasped, “Oh no, I’ve said too much!”

 

“The Creator is so against my relationship that he used his secret weapon?” Castiel liked to think of himself as important, but even he didn’t believe that the Creator would go to such lengths to prevent the relationship. It made much more sense for him to punish the couple later. They were no threat to his throne or status.

 

“Well, more of a favor, if we’re being honest!” Wenka grinned, “Now now, I told you; one for one! You’re already way over, but we’ll just call it a little extra for being so interesting. No more secrets though!” He put his hat back on, “I told your pretty little miss that I’d be back tomorrow for her answer. Try and convince her in that time, okay?”

 

“You… want me to succeed?” Castiel stared at the Jackalope, flabbergasted.

 

“Like I said: this ain’t an order from the top, so nothing happens if I don’t succeed. And, if you win…” Wenka grinned, “This will add a little more chaos, and chaos starts wars, and then I won’t be so bored!” He pranced out of the pub, leaving Castiel alone with a full building, his girlfriend’s siren-like singing, and his thoughts.

 

It was unlikely that Wenka had “accidentally” let any information slip, especially as much as he had said. So, Castiel knew that someone in the Creator’s family personally wanted his relationship ruined. The question was whether spilling the beans was part of their plan, or Wenka’s. There was no way that little twerp didn’t have an agenda of his own, and if it was just a fight to get his kicks off, then that was more terrifying than anything the Creator could threaten. Castiel definitely didn’t like the little creature though, his callous take on people’s feelings reminded him too much of his pack.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts when the pub exploded with applause. Deborah waved to the crowd, before running down the steps to Castiel. Her face was flushed with excitement, and she gave Castiel a toothy grin as she approached. His mood instantly relaxed; that was not the face someone made when they were going to end their relationship. The moment she reached him, he grabbed her hand, pulling her outside so that they could talk.

 

“Great as usual,” Castiel looked down at the woman he loved with happiness swelling in his chest, “My perfect Deborah.”

 

“I thought you said I was permanently unobtainable?” Deborah teased, laughing. Oh lord, that laugh would be the death of Castiel, it was just so wonderful.

 

Castiel dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out the silver ring he had purchased, “Yes, but I would like to try.” He pulled Deborah close, “I want to make you my wife.”

 

Deborah looked up at him, dumbfounded, before replying, “No.”

 

The world seemed to crash around Castiel, his breath catching in his chest, “No?”

 

Deborah’s eyes immediately shifted down, “This was such a good night too…” Deboah muttered, almost sounding like she was blaming Castiel or making her sya that. That… would be ridiculous, though. She stared at her feet for a moment, before looking back up at Castiel. She pointed her her eyes, “What do you see?”

 

“…” Castiel had no idea how Deborah wanted him to answer that question. A face? A pair of eyeballs? Skin? “The eyes of the most beautiful-“

 

“Wrinkles!” Deborah corrected. “I have crows feet Cas.” She sighed, leaning back against the building. “It’s only the start, Kitten. I’m going to keep growing older, and it’s going to show. And you…” she gestured at Castiel, “You’re going to be you.”

 

“Deborah, I’m not in love with you because I think you’re eternally young!”

 

“Yeah, well it’s easy to say now!” Deborah shouted, poking at Castiel’s chest. “It’s easy to love Deborah when she’s young! When her skin is supple, when her hair isn’t grey, when she’s limber…” She shook her head angrily, “It’s just… words! I could say I’d love you if you were a horse, but we can’t test that unless you decide to grow hooves! And I don’t want to test your words!”

 

“Deborah…” Castiel was lost for words, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Deborah sniffed, tears welling in her eyes, “But that’s not enough for a future.” She cupped Castiel’s face in her hand, “I got an offer to go to the Capital and train with a professional singer. I’m going,” she paused, as though unsure of whether or not to say the last part, “Boris… Boris asked me to marry him. We’re going to the Capital, where I will finally make my dream come true.”

 

Castiel glared down at Deborah, his heart aching at he did so. He pushed her hand away and snarled, “I guess there’s no room for me in there, is there?”

 

“Kitten, I-“

 

“No!” Castiel shouted, “You can’t just call me “Kitten” and tap my ears to make this go away! I’m not just going to roll over and let you do whatever you want so that you can play with me when you have time!” He kicked the wall of the pub. “I told everyone that you wouldn’t do this! That you believed in us as much as I did!” You growled at her, his ears pinning back. Deborah took a step back, visibly scared of his behavior. It was the first time since meeting that he made it abundantly clear that he could kill her if he wished, and she had no idea how to respond. He was hurt, as well as angry, “You know what? I thought that when I left my pack, that I gave up what it meant to be a Hound for you, but I guess I still have my pride as an Immortal.” He crossed his arms, the low volume of his voice actually being more terrifying than his shouts. “Go. Get. Leave. I’m not going to chase some little girl that doesn’t have anything to offer me.”

 

Deborah opened her mouth to speak, but a growl from Castiel convinced her otherwise. Instead, she just turned and walked back into the pub, where Boris was announcing his engagement. The moment the door slammed shut, Castiel turned tail and ran. It was almost nostalgic, choosing to leave people who already decided he was useless long ago. He liked to convince himself that he had the power in these moments, but it was a lie. The hungry don’t choose to starve themselves, the prey don’t choose to be eaten after they were caught, and the lonely don’t choose to be alone.

 

* * *

  

Castiel ran for days, completely aimless. He hadn’t left the village in the five years that he lived there, and his sense of where things were was thrown off as a result. He would run until he was tired, then sleep in some space where someone might chance upon him, and then wake up and run some more.

 

He was exhausted, barely drinking and rarely eating. When he came across a small lake, he didn’t even think before jumping into it, mouth open to swallow some of that sweet liquid. When he resurfaced, his eyes met with a gold colored doe. She stared at him somberly, like she knew of his troubles and pitied him. A part of Castiel wanted to kill it, but he knew better. Hunting a deer was a useless endeavor without a pack to back you up; they were too fast when running and too vicious when fighting. However, it seemed this deer was interested in neither. She just stared at him, as though waiting for him to do something that a plan required. Feeling awkward because of a deer was getting a little embarrassing, and he pulled himself out of the lake. “What do you want?”

 

The deer kept her golden eyes trained on him, and Castiel noticed something odd; one of her eyes was green. It didn’t make any sense, but it was true. “What are you?” The deer seemed to take this as her cue and began walking away, looking back to Castiel as she did, to make sure he followed her.

 

And follow her he did. There was no objective up to now beyond running himself to death, so following a weird deer to some weird place couldn’t be that much worse of a plan. She led him through a forest, and Castiel’s ears perked at the sound of singing. Honestly, if this got any more deja vu he was just going to turn around and run again. He couldn’t help but notice a large number of deer staring at him as he passed, and he avoided looking at their eyes to see if they matched as well.

 

_ “Hush, hush, it will all be over soon _

_ This burning pain will subside with the passing of the moon _

_ Though perhaps, you might find, you’re different from before, _

_ So hush, hush, with your beastly roar…” _

 

Castiel froze as the singer came into view. It was the white Faun, the one that Castiel had hurt so many years ago. He was seated in the middle of the of a clearing, small rabbits in his lap as he worked on making a flower crown. Castiel took step back, but backed into a deer, a pale brown buck with green and gold eyes. Castiel tried to growl, but the sound caught in his throat, whether because of magic or guilt was unknown to him. The golden doe that led him nudged Castiel, urging him into the space where the Faun sat, twisting flowers into a crown as he sung. When Castiel’s foot crunched a branch, Lysander’s head shot up, startled by the visitor. “You are..?” Lysander stood up, placing the finished crown around the head of a nearby deer, with antlers large and foreboding. The rabbits hopped off of Lysander’s lap, and Castiel noticed their eyes were normal, before he realized why the gold and green eyes made sense; the Faun had a herd of deer.

 

Lysander stared down the intruder, his posture far more menacing than their first meeting. He was much taller now, with silver antlers full enough to fight if the need arrived, though his aura suggested that he never needed to fight. It just hit Castiel that Lysander had grown up and had experiences wholly unique to himself since they were children. It had been impossible for Castiel to imagine Lysander as anything other than a young Faun, screaming in pain because of his stupidity. To have grown so large, to have made his songs, and to have collected a herd of animals with his quiet strength and gentle spirit… it frazzled Castiel. Lysander’s mismatched eyes seemed apathetic from the time he spent alone, though they also appeared as basins full of thoughts that only a lonely spirit can have.“You’re… that Hound?” Castiel’s heart leapt into his chest, fear running down his spine. “The Red Hound, in love with a mortal woman.” Lysander’s face eased into a smile, just as Castiel’s hardened. Lysander… didn’t recognize him, and Castiel couldn’t decide if that was favorable, or if being seen as the fool of an Immortal who lost his heart was just as bad as being a monster who hurt an innocent young Faun. “I’ve been listening to the gossip and, I must say…” Castiel braced himself for the judgement, “It’s quite romantic.”

 

Castiel stared at Lysander, truly surprised by his words. “Romantic, you say?” No one had ever used that word for Castiel and Deborah’s relationship, not even themselves. The villagers considered it an ill omen, the Immortals a sign of folly, and the two of them just saw it as something that shouldn’t have happened, but was fun since it did. To see it as so much bigger and more wonderful than it was seemed foreign to him. 

 

Lysander nodded, gesturing for Castiel to come closer, “Yes, the Hound willing to forego his Immortal pride for the woman he loves. The woman, trying to appease those around her while still being true to her heart. Powers from both sides pulling the two apart… it’s very romantic.” The Faun hummed a few notes as Castiel tentatively came closer, before singing:

 

_ “You need not hide your face from me, _

_ I know just what you are _

_ You claws and teeth do not scare me, _

_ I remember who you are _

_ I held you close, I held you tight _

_ I will hold you once again _

_ I promise to love you forever _

_ Even though this night will end.” _

 

Castiel’s breath tasted bitter as he thought of Deborah, who was not quite as loving as the song implied… at least not now. Maybe she once was, but it made no difference. Maybe in the future, Castiel could look back with fondness at those days, but today it made him feel like he was played for a fool. “I hope you don’t mind, but I must know… how does your story end?” Lysander stared excitedly at the Hound, “I know the grapevine is unreliable at best, so I’d rather hear it from you than through gossip later.”

 

“It ends with her leaving me to marry a mortal with money and go make her dreams come true,” Castiel deadpanned, “I asked her to marry me, and she decided there was no future for us. So go ahead, make some romance out of that.” Castiel didn’t have patience for starry-eyed looks at his life, especially the parts that he wanted to forget.

 

Lysander missed the sarcasm entirely, nodding to himself. He hummed a tune, murmuring words to himself to see what rhymed and what sounded fine. “It’s not impossible,” he said, “A tragic ending, while not best for the characters, can be fulfilling.” He mumbled a few things to himself, seeming to forget that Castiel was even there. The deer beside Lysander stared Castiel down knowingly, the flowers wrapped around his antlers doing nothing to make him less intimidating. Even the rabbit seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for Castiel’s performance.

 

Castiel stared awkwardly at the Faun, unsure of what to do, or why Lysander’s deer were so keen on the two of them meeting. Though, he had to admit, he had a sneaking suspicion. While Lysander did not order these deer around, they were in tune with his thoughts and feelings, and knew what Castiel did, and what he had to atone for. The judgement of animals was not the sort of thing that typically bothered Castiel, but the sheer number of the peaceful animals, along with the unnerving pureness of Lysander’s presence made Castiel feel like a murderer among priestesses. Finally, Castiel blurted out, “I’m sorry!”

 

Lysander glanced up at Castiel as the words came spilling out. “I’m sorry for hurting you when we were children. I didn’t know that my abilities could kill immortals, especially ones like you and your brother. I was trying to play, and when you got hurt, I was afraid and ran.” Lysander stared at Castiel, his expression unreadable. The Hound continued, “I know I messed you up, that I gave you death’s touch. I ruined you, and nothing can make up for that, but I’m still sorry.” Castiel’s words rushed through him the moment he let even one out, his emotions getting the better of his pride.

 

“It’s alright,” Lysander spoke calmly, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I never blamed you,or even considered it a curse.” He touched his forehead to Castiel’s, a gentle intimacy forming between them. Castiel couldn’t speak, feeling like he had just entered a carefully planned story that a single wrong word could destroy. “Death is a natural part of life, and one that Immortals don’t like to think about. We’re only immortal if left alone, while so much around us is so fragile.” Lysander smiled at Castiel, “Even so, death is eventual for all of us, and it is better to treat death simply than with a cautious glare. Your touch did not curse me, it was a gift.”

 

Castiel was at a loss. Not once did he even consider that he had done some good with his actions. The Hounds encouraged him to forget about it, Rosalya and Leigh wanted him to beg forgiveness, the Creator wanted to punish him, and Deborah… being with her gave him no reason to even think about what he had done. It was a blissful dream where Castiel could pretend he had no past. “I… I don’t know what to say.” Castiel’s legs gave out beneath him, but Lysander immediately caught the Hound, holding him up. “I never even dreamed… I never thought… that you would forgive me… that you would say I did something good…”

 

Lysander gently got onto his knees, bringing Castiel onto the ground with him. “I am alone often, and think about many things.” He waved his hand around in gestures, “Songs, words, life, death, flowers… it makes sense that I would consider myself eventually, and so I named myself Lucky.” He hummed a small tune, his hands warming as he did so, “Even the most painful events should not be changed, as they make me ‘Lysander’. I am thankful for everything that makes me who I am.” Castiel could feel energy returning to him through Lysander’s song, and his muscles relaxed. “Are these the answers you wanted?” Lysander stared at Castiel, without judgement or expectation.

 

“I don’t know,” Castiel mumbled, feeling for the first time like he’d truly lost control of himself. “I don’t think I wanted anything from you, not really.” He sighed, his ears drooping slightly, “If anything, I wanted to forget you. I just wanted to keep walking until I wandered into some new thing to distract me.” Castiel stared at his hands, “I’m so tired of being alone,” he confessed, uncomfortable with just how vulnerable the words made him feel now that someone else had heard them.

 

“You are an important chapter in defining who I am. If you have nowhere else to go… you should consider being my companion.” Lysander smiled, “The deer make for little conversation, and the rabbits are more interested in food than the complexities of life and death. I could use a friend, and I’m also so tired of being alone”

 

Castiel felt calm for the first time in ages. No posturing, no growling, no being on alert, no planning… just serenity. Lysander’s mere presence calmed him, and his offer of friendship warmed him. Castiel knew already that he could spends hours in silence around Lysander, growing as an Immortal. “My name is Castiel.”

 

Lysander froze at his words. “That… changes things…” The Hound cocked an eyebrow at this and Lysander continued, “In the song, I wrote you as Clarence. I’m so sure that’s what I heard… I couldn’t have forgotten that…” Lysander murmured, before adding, “Though Castiel is admittedly a much better name.” He smiled, standing up and stretching, as Castiel just remained seated, staring at Lysander in dumbfounded wonder that was slowly warming itself in annoyance.

 

“… Clarence!?”


	2. Always Room for Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twins are the most well-known anomaly in the world of Immortals, but not for the ways they define themselves. When one of them chances upon a hunter who was too green to heed the stories of old, there is an immediate need for action. Of course, every event has innumerable possible consequences, which only lead to more events to build the story. What would have been another day for this mortal could end up changing the progress in the Great Plan.

When the Twins were born, everyone had an opinion to voice. The Patron of Leaders had taken a human wife without the knowledge of the other Immortals, even managing to hide it from the Creator. Her name was lost to the tales, as the Immortals had never considered the short lives of individual humans worth noting. All that the story said of her was that she was beautiful and she was kind, and that the Patron had fallen in love quickly, and hard. Not long after their wedding, she had become pregnant, and the two were joyous at the news. Unfortunately, a mortal giving birth to an Immortal was not the sort of thing she could comfortably accomplish under normal circumstances. That, tied in with the fact that she was pregnant with twins essentially sealed her fate, and she died in childbirth. Alexy was born, healthy and strong and glowing as an Immortal. Armin was born, weak, small, and mortal. Their father was so broken over the loss of his one true love that he begged the Creator to take away his immortality and let him die. The Creator, kind and loving of all of his creations, honored his wish, and tasked himself with finding a pair of suitable parents for the Twins.

 

He decided on a pair of Deities; the Patrons of Summer and Autumn respectively. Vitoria, Patron of Summer, was honored to accept the Twins as her sons, and teach them to run with all of the energy of a summer storm and love life like the sun loved the Earth. Arnaud, Patron of Autumn, was equally elated to accept the two into his home, and show them the beauty of changing colors and the invigorating chill of change. They welcomed the Twins into their lives, but the state of Armin was of great concern to them. While Alexy was an Immortal, and a Deity at that, Armin was mortal, and it seemed that his biological mother’s health or Alexy’s exuberant power or both had affected his health before he even left the womb. Armin was rarely able to leave their home in the forest, and avoided the sun at all costs. The family was concerned that Armin would live a very short life, even by mortal standards.

 

It was Alexy who ended up changing Armin’s life, and he was still young when he decided to do so. Alexy, without his parents’ knowledge, made his first planal shift, appearing in the Hall of the Creator. It was a sacred place, home to the Creator, his family, and those who served them. The only time a Deity could justify appearing in such an important place was if he was requested, or if he had urgent business with the Creator. Alexy was still a child, barely even reaching puberty, and there were many things in his life that were uncertain, like his role among the Deities or what kind of man he would grow up to be. One thing that Alexy knew for sure, however, was that he loved his brother and did not want to lose him, so he begged on hands and knees for the Creator to make his brother immortal. When the Creator informed him, with regret in his voice, that he could not just create immortality and put it inside of an already existing life, Alexy asked a new question: “Can he have some of mine?”

 

If the Creator’s son had been the one on the throne, he would have scoffed. He would have berated Alexy for his weakness, told him that his brother’s death was necessary in the great plan, and that such stupidity deserved some divine task to punish him. Instead, this Creator saw Alexy’s request as proof that Alexy was good, and he was kind, and he was worthy of whatever duty that would be eventually bestowed upon him.

 

And so, Alexy gave half of his immortality to Armin. Armin was no longer frail and weak, and he no longer needed to avoid the sun and stay inside. Now, when Armin locked his doors and closed the blinds, it was purely because he wanted to, which he did constantly. His parents teased him relentlessly for this behavior, but took no measures to change it. Alexy was still the only one with powers as a Deity, such as altering his perception to mortals, as well as whatever Patron or Muse abilities he would be gifted with as he grew older. It did not bother Armin, who felt no need for such flashy abilities when he preferred sticking to whatever new hobby had captured his interest and kept him inside. That being said, there were some drawbacks to their arrangement. The further apart the Twins were, the more likely that an injury could kill one of them. If one of them died, the other would lose their immortality as well, and Alexy would not be able to shift into the Hall of the Creator without Armin touching him. They had no fear of that happening, as Armin rarely left their home and Alexy never felt the need to venture further than the forest that they lived in, which was considered sacred to the humans and rarely saw one as a result. When Alexy and Armin wanted to go to a human village, whether for business or pleasure, they went together, often stirring the interest of the pretty girls there in the process.

 

Armin reveled in the attention of the girls, laughing and joking with them, loving to make little dirty comments that turned them pink. Alexy also enjoyed their attention, but he was acutely aware that it wasn’t the same way Armin did. While he loved talking with the girls about their dresses and hobbies, he didn’t feel any desire to make them giggle and blush. Rather, his gaze was drawn to the men who glared from across the way, boyfriends and admirers that were jealous of the attention the newcomers received. Alexy kept this to himself, however, instinctually knowing that his case was rare in this world, and it was unlikely that he would find a romance to occupy his time. So, he would chat with the girls about their lives and dreams, encourage them to take the chances that terrified him, and be on his way, returning home with a parcel of clothing and some hobby for Armin to occupy himself with.

 

On their 18th birthday, the Creator finished his final task before passing the torch to his son; he assigned Alexy his role as a Deity. Alexy was to be the Patron of Spring, following in the footsteps of his beloved parents. Vitoria and Arnaud were ecstatic, showering the two with gifts, such as a small cabin for them to live in that resided in the forest, and a pair of immortal Cockatiels for sending messages, both for communicating with their parents and each other. Since Alexy’s new role came with some abilities, like being able to create warmth and change color palettes, they gave Armin a 2 magical bracelets: one bracelet with the ability to alter human perception of him, like Deities were born with, and the other invigorated his immune system to prevent illness and speed up the healing process. Almost immediately following, the Creator fell from his position, the new one taking his place. The new Creator sneered and bid the family be gone. He could not undo the decisions his father had made, but he could make it known that his own decisions would have differed greatly.

 

Alexy’s duties as the Patron of Spring were simple: when it was time for Spring to arrive, he had to be the one to initiate the shift. The forest in which he and many other Immortals lived was the exact center of the world, and the change would ripple to the rest of life. He had to interact most closely with the Fauns and the Nymphs, as the essence of Spring was new life. The Fauns were responsible for new life, and the Nymphs were responsible for healing the lives so deep in their sleep they could be thought for dead. His duties lasted for the duration of Spring, making sure that everything was unfolding from the Winter as it should. Then, for the rest of the year, he was free to do as he wished. Still, Alexy had built a strong bond with the forest and those who dwelled in it, so he often spent his free time marveling at what nature could create with just a little coaxing from the Immortals he collaborated with. He and Leigh were both completely enraptured by the natural colors and textures of nature, and would spend hours talking about what it would be like if the softness of a petal was a sash against fur coarse like a deer’s and vivid like a ladybug. During his rare visits to the village, Alexy would bring back fabrics for Leigh and Rosalya, encouraging a love of textiles in them, and ignoring his resentment as they shared that love with each other rather than him.

 

It was near the end of one of his Springs that Alexy laid on the edge of a meadow just outside the forest. He had gone through a number of Springs by this point, and this particular execution was on a smooth track as he prepared for the transition into Summer. His cockatiel chipped from a tree above him, the last tree before the span of rolling hills and grass. He could hear some Hounds playing their games in the distance, but was unconcerned. The pack was occupied with its pups and would not try to cause too much trouble until Autumn, when the urge to mate hit them and foolish Hounds would try and bluster their ways into the hearts of their beaus, causing a fair share of chaos in the process. Alexy didn’t envy his father for having to handle that mess, and was glad that his charges were of a peaceful nature, with his only troubles involving outside sources. Even Castiel, who wasn’t technically one of the key components of the Spring season, did his part of supporting his friend and partner, and it did wonders for Lysander’s performance since the two of them joined up.

 

_ Speaking of which… _ Alexy glanced out and saw Lysander’s deer creeping from the forest and into the meadow. They stared at Alexy for a moment before determining him as no threat to them, and continuing to the grassy plains. It was obvious to Alexy that they were Lysander’s… for one, they had the gold and green eyes that were unnatural, and only showed up in those deer thanks to Alexy’s powers. It was also apparent because a number of the deer had flower crowns, a hobby of Lysander’s when he was composing his songs. A few rabbits hopped alongside the deer, not truly a part of Lysander’s family-unit but welcomed by the Faun and his peaceful kindness. Finally, a number of coyotes were interwoven throughout the herd, completely uninterested in harming the deer or the rabbits in any way. They were Castiel’s pack, marked by a black ring of fur around their necks, and considered as natural a part of their dynamic as any other creature. Alexy had to admit, he’d had some qualms about the redhead (now red thanks to Alexy’s powers rather than dye), especially after hearing some of the stories from the grapevine, but Castiel had proven himself a trustworthy Hound. Lysander and he had an unbreakable bond, and had affected each other in positive ways. Lysander had calmed the Hound down some, his temper exploding less and less every day. Castiel had done the opposite for Lysander, encouraging the Faun in play, and Alexy had never seen him smile more. Once, he caught the two of them playing tag with Castiel’s coyotes, before Lysander noticed his gaze and embarrassedly excused himself from the game.

 

Now, though, the animals were alone. Alexy suspected the two were deeper in the forest, making some new song. It warmed his heart to see the naturally opposed creatures intermingle, and it made him nostalgic for the attitude of the previous Creator, who saw all of life as an improvised dance, beautiful and chaotic. The Creator now saw all of those elements as anomalies that needed to be straightened into place, so as to work perfectly with his plans… there was no “great plan” until he took the throne.. Alexy was among those anomalies, and he felt apprehensive every time he thought of the Creator and how he might try to ‘correct’ him. While there was no duty to have children or find a mate, he knew that if he let himself pursue romance, the Creator would definitely try and nip the behavior in the bud, and it could even affect the offerings and prayers from mortals.

 

Panicked chirping from above him interrupted Alexy’s thought’s, and he stood up with a start, hearing the strain of wood being stretched. He turned quickly, staring into a forest and seeing a hunter, bow drawn back and aimed at Lysander’s herd. Alexy was outside of the hunter’s perception, though his hunting dog stared nervously at the Deity, and Alexy quickly ran deftly through the forest, grabbing the hunter’s arrow before it could even leave the shade of the trees. The hunter swore loudly before Alexy pulled some powder from his pocket and blew it into his face, knocking the man out. Alexy thanked his lucky stars that Armin had pursued Alchemy as his hobby of the week recently, and sighed in relief. The hunter’s dog stood protectively over his master, growling despite the obvious fear as he recognized a being so much greater than what he knew.

 

Alexy smiled down at the dog, “Don’t worry. I won’t kill him… just punish him a little.” He winked at the dog, who didn’t particularly understand human language, but did understand what mercy sounded like. Alexy pat the dog’s head, and stared down at the human.

 

“Oh no, he’s gorgeous.” Alexy mockingly complained before laughing, plotting for the situation that the unfortunate hunter would awaken to.

  
  


Alexy watched the hunter awaken, grinning from ear to ear with mischief. The hunter was high up in a sturdy oak, held against the trunk with recently grown vines, and resting on a particularly thick branch. The hunter’s emotions went through a cycle of groggy, confused, and then total terror as he looked around in panic as Alexy called up, “Why are you up there?” The hunter’s dog was sitting beside Alexy, tail wagging as he read the playful mood of the Deity.

 

The hunter looked down, terrified as he realized just how high he was, before calling “I didn’t come up here on my own!” He was frozen, and Alexy noted that he was either smart enough or too terrified to try and pull against the bonds. “Get some help, please!”

 

“I know you didn’t climb up there,” Alexy replied cheerfully, “What I’m asking is if you know why I put you up there!” The hunter was at a loss, completely dumbfounded by this new information. “Didn’t you know that people say this forest is sacred? That it’s at the exact center of the world, and all changes start here; the new life of Spring and the death that is Winter? They’re right, after all!”

 

The hunter shouted down, “Are you saying that if I killed that deer-“

 

“Oh no!” Alexy interrupted, “Thought I understand why you’d think so.” Alexy scratched the dog behind his ears, “No, but those deer did belong to one of the great powers that inhabit this forest.” He laughed, “You know, I’ve never seen Lysander angry before… maybe if I tell him what you did, I’ll finally see what happens.” The name meant nothing to the hunter, but his fear escalated regardless. Alexy continued, “Though, his partner Castiel… I’ve seen him angry lots of times. He’d probably have his coyotes tear you to shreds.” Alexy paused, and then asked, “Didn’t it strike you as odd that there were coyotes in that herd of deer?”

 

“I didn’t see them…” The hunter replied, feeling foolish on top of his current state of total terror.

 

“Oh, you didn’t?” Alexy shrugged, this information changing nothing. Hunting in a sacred forest was still taboo, after all. “Well, maybe I won’t tell Lysander and Castiel… maybe I’ll tell Lysander’s brother and his mate.” Alexy laughed, “Oh, the amount of pain they could cause you! Leigh can make plants grow,” Alexy started to explain, “so he’d probably keep you up in a tree too… Though, plants would start growing into you. Rosalya would heal you constantly so that you wouldn’t die, and you would suffer eternally for hurting their beloved Lysander.” Alexy dropped the pretense of handing the hunter off to another, “Of course, I’m the one who caught you, and I was even nice enough to prevent your scheme from succeeding! If I didn’t…” Alexy let the words hang in the air, their implication obvious.

 

“What does that mean?” The hunter ventured, not foolish enough to believe himself off the hook.

 

“What indeed,” Alexy echoed with a laugh. “After all, I’m more powerful than all of them combined.” He cocked his head in mock thought, “A punishment befitting the crime would be the most reasonable. Since you were hunting, I could turn you into a little bunny… your dog here would have no problem punishing you for me then.” Of course, Alexy had no such power, but this mortal needed to understand the repercussions of his actions.

 

“N-no, Cookie!” he ordered, his dog confused at what he was being told to not do.

 

“Cookie? Awwwww, that’s so cute!” Alexy squealed, delighting in the hunter’s blush returning. From up in the trees, Alexy could hear some mumble, but was unable to discern what he was saying. “I can’t hurt a cutie like you!” Alexy patronized, delighting in the annoyance from the hunter. “Well, I don’t have the stomach for torture anyways, so you’re honestly safest for me catching you,” Alexy admitted. “Though you still need to be punished…” Alexy began climbing the tree, with a technique more resembling a squirrel than human, unconcerned about a fall. While his abilities for life weren’t as refined as the Fauns’, he would still be able to keep himself safe with a conveniently-newly grown branch. “So, here comes the question of what I should do.”

 

Alexy sat on the branch in front of the hunter, trying his best to not admit to himself how attractive this mortal was. His cedar brown hair harmonized with bright green eyes, and his muscles popped as they tensed against the tree’s restraint. It was obvious that the hunter regretted the decisions that led to him being stuck in a tree with a careless man equipped with too much power, though Alexy was unsure if he only regretted the fact that it was caught in the act. The hunter finally spoke, “I’m not a bad guy,” his eyes fixed on Alexy intensely, “but I tried to do a terrible thing. I am prepared to do whatever I need to do to not be defined by that.”

 

Alexy laughed and booped his nose, “Whatever it takes, hmm?” With a snap of his fingers, the tree released the hunter from his binds, and he quickly grabbed the branch he was sitting on so as to not fall. “How would you feel about being a babysitter?”

 

“A… babysitter?” The hunter stared at Alexy in confusion, “I’m not that great with kids.”

 

“Sure you are!” Alexy cheerfully corrected, clapping the hunter on his shoulder, ignoring the fact that the action made him fall off the tree with a surprised yelp. Or rather, the tree reached out and grabbed the mortal before he could be hurt. Alexy hopped down from the tree, grabbing his prisoner’s collar and bringing him with. “You’ll be the best for a baby like my brother!” Alexy was delighted at the new toy he’d found, and knew the mortal would be fun. “How about you’re in my service until the next Spring ends?”

 

“You’re… asking?” The hunter rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter, trying to retain some semblance of dignity around this jester of a Deity.

 

“An order phrased as a question,” Alexy corrected, sticking his hand out to shake. “Alexy, Patron of Summer and King of the Fauns and Nymphs.”

 

“… Kentin” The hunter grabbed Alexy’s hand and shook it. While Alexy was sure the hunter wished that the year had already ended, he was excited and hoped the days dragged on forever.

  
  


When Alexy arrived at his cabin, Kentin in hand, he was giddy. Kentin was less so, “So, how old is your brother again?”

 

“Old enough to not die when left him home alone,” Alexy replied, opening the door. Kentin scowled at the Deity’s refusal to give a straight answer. “Oh Arrrrrrrmin! I got us a new toy!”

 

Before Kentin could object to the title. Armin slid down the railing of the stairs, prepared to make some cocky comment before stopping and staring at the confused mortal, “Uh, Alexy? I think you need your eyes checked.” Kentin quietly agreed bitterly, Armin’s appearance making it very clear that the use of the word “babysit” was far too liberal.

 

“Nonsense!” Alexy strolled past his brother, his bird flying into the house through an open window. “This is Kentin! He was naughty, so he’s staying with us for a year.” Alexy grabbed an apple from a fruit bowl, chomping into it with vigor.

 

“I don’t think _ I’m _ supposed to be the one punished,” Armin glowered. “You’re the one running about, so I’ll be the one stuck with babysitting.” He sighed, tossing a contraption of intertwined metal at his brother, who caught it deftly. “Also, I need a new hobby.”

 

Kentin stood in the doorway awkwardly, watching the two brothers argue. “What in the world do you guys think babysitting is?”

 

Alexy ignored the mortal, “You should take up alchemy again. Really helped me out with Kentin here.”

 

“Too boring. I was able to make rocks into gold in just a few weeks! How dull is that?”

 

“You can do that!?” Kentin marveled, taking a seat at the table with the twins. It felt awkward to try and force some degree of natural harmony in the situation, but he knew that it was going to happen eventually and it would simply make more sense to fake it for the time being.

 

“Most can’t,” Alexy corrected, “Armin can, but just won’t. Because he’s a dingus.” He glared at his brother, who stuck his tongue out in response.

 

“It got dull!” Amin complained, “Who wants a hobby that they’ve mastered in less than a month?” He gestured at the metal bits on the table, “Just like these brain teaser puzzles!” Armin straighter out, huffing his chest and deepening his voice to imitate the local blacksmith, “Takes the men hours to figure even one of these out! You’ll spend months on the set, guaranteed!” He blew a farting noise, “Finished em in a week.”

 

“Maybe you need something you can’t master,” Kentin ventured, earning a look from both of the twins. “You know, like some creative stuff,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling like a tiny bunny surrounded by curious wolves.

 

“I’ll bite,” Amrin grinned, leaning towards the mortal, “what would you suggest?”

 

“Well, my mom taught me to whittle,” Kentin responded, pulling out a thick parcel wrapped in fabric from his pocket. He opened the folded cloth and individually removed a knife, a sharpener, and a small block of wood with a few cuts. 

 

Kentin rolled the small block around in his hands, enjoying the smoothness of the carved sections against the rough bits. He handed the block to Armin, who tossed it up and down in his hands, feeling the weight, before handing it off. “Eh… thanks, but no thanks.”

 

“Alchemy!” Alexy shouted in exasperation, before throwing his hands up. “You! Can! Do! Alchemy!” He groaned before leaning back, “You’re good at it! And it’s useful! And you weren’t ‘bored’ until you made gold for, what, five seconds?”

 

Armin slammed his hands on the table before standing up “I made gold! It’s not my fault it wasn’t stable enough to hold! The idea of dirt just being made into gold is ludicrous!”

 

“So you’re just complaining because you could do it!”   
  


“Because it couldn’t be done!”

 

“Dear Creator, you’re so stubborn!”

 

“I learned it from watching you!”

 

Kentin watched the two argue, unsure if his input was needed, or even wanted. He stood up quietly, and the fighting twins continued. He took a step back, and another, and another, and when he reached the conclusion that no one would notice if he just went into the other room and went to sleep.

 

Of course, his mind was changed when he woke up a few hours later to Alexy lifting him out of the bed and setting him on the cold floor, before Alexy claimed the bed for himself. Such was life.

  
  


Armin was not the kind of person who rose with the sun. Rather, he would sleep until the sun was beginning its descent. Today, however, the universe had different plans, as a loud slamming following by shouting immediately forced his eyes open. He jumped out of his bed and ran down the stairs, where Castiel was standing in the doorway, ears pinned back and lip curled up to expose sharp canines. “Where is he?” the Hound snarled, eyes around the room, before landing on an understandably frazzled Kentin. Castiel grabbed the mortal by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close with a growl. “Are you the hunter?” 

 

Armin, not wanting his houseguest to be killed after just one night, ran over, trying to force himself between the two, but Castiel’s superior physical strength wasn’t making it easy. “Knock it off Castiel! Alexy is handling it!” Armin shouted, noticing the obvious change from surprised and confused to total terror at the mention of Castiel’s name. He suspected that Alexy had mentioned Castiel by name, and made it clear how he would feel about Lysander’s herd being preyed upon. Armin grabbed Castiel from behind, pulling him off of Kentin.

 

Kentin took a few steps back, bracing himself against the wall, as Castiel shouted, “If you [i]EVER[/i] try and hurt my family again I’ll rip you to pieces!” Armin roughly pulled Castiel, pushing him towards the door, ignoring the stream of curses coming from his mouth.

 

“Get out! Alexy! Is! Handling! It!” With one strong shove, Armin pushed Castiel out the door and slammed it, sighing as the house was silent once again. He turned to Kentin, sporting a grin, “So, that was Castiel. As you can see, he isn’t that shy.” Armin laughed, walking over to Kentin and clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t serious about all that!”

 

Kentin muttered, “Really? He could’ve fooled me…”

 

“Nawwwww, you’re fine!” Armin grinned, leading Kentin to the kitchen for some breakfast. “After all, Castiel is an Immortal, and a  Hound at that, so has some really impressive physical abilities!” He grabbed an apple, taking an enthusiastic bite, “If he really wanted to tear you apart piece by piece, I sure as sugar wouldn’t be able to stop him!”

 

Kentin stared at Armin for a good minute before speaking, “You’re new to this whole encouragement thing, aren’t you?” Armin laughed, tossing an apple into Kentin’s hands. He sighed and took a less-than-enthusiastic bite, “An Immortal... you’re talking like you aren’t one.”

 

“I’m not.” Armin shrugged, “Like, I get the whole ‘living forever’ bits thanks to Alexy, but I don’t get any of the cool powers or abilities.” Armin took another bite of his apple, already bored of this conversation. He had talking with people about this before, and tired of all the pity that people were so eager to throw his way. 

 

“None of the responsibilities either,” Kentin responded with a smug smile, taking Armin by surprise. “Your brother has to run around keeping people like me from ruining this place, and you get to do whatever you want.”

 

Armin laughed, “I knew I liked you, Kennykins!” Kentin’s smirk immediately changed into a grim frown, made laughable by an undeniable blush. “Alexy’s no eternal worker either, you know!” Armin laughed, “Oh, he’ll play Mr. Big and Serious during spring, but the rest of the year? He’s even worse than me.”

 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kentin deadpanned, making Armin grin again.While Alexy was definitely his friend as well as brother, it was a welcome change to have a new person to banter with. Not to mention, you can’t gossip about Alexy when you’re talking []to[/i] Alexy.

  
  


Alexy sat next to a small pool in a clearing, touching his fingertips barely against the surface. “Peggy?” he whispered, “Are you in?” At his coaxing, a head popped out of the water, short plum hair decorated with shining droplets of water and eyes glimmering with potential mischief. Alexy grinned, “Do you have any gossip today?”

 

Peggy laughed and pulled herself out of her pond, “Like you don’t know!” She propped herself onto the grass next to Alexy, “Someone who cannot be named is on everyone’s lips tonight! It seems that he got himself a cute little human pet~” Peggy smirked at a blushing Alexy, delighted at being the only one able to rile him up like this, primarily due to being the only one outside of his family aware of his orientation. That quality in her had less to do with Alexy trusting her with that information and far more to do with her uncanny ability to have knowledge she shouldn’t. Fortunately, she had enough of a moral compass to keep it to herself, and Alexy being her boss certainly tightened her lips.

 

“Don’t overthink it,” Alexy sternly, recovering from her teasing comment. “Lysander is one of my charges, and his herd is family to him. This is simply business.” Alexy wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t find the mortal attractive, and his reactions were often adorable, but that was it. If he was immortal, it might be a different story, but a human? He might as well be considering a relationship with a rainstorm that only lasted a night. “I don’t like violence, and this seemed like a better alternative.”

 

“Business business,” Peggy mocked. “That being said though, reactions are positive, since business is all they think it is.” She sighed, “Honestly, sometimes I think I’m the only Immortal with a taste for the dramatic.” She draped her arm over her forehead mockingly, with a theatrical sigh to match.

 

“I think the Creator’s daughter would disagree,” Alexy responded with a bark of laughter. “That girl could make a tragic love story out of a poorly timed sneeze!” He pretended to sneeze, falling backwards in the process. He laughed harder before sitting up with a cheshire grin.

 

“Speeeeaking of which,” Peggy leaned closer to Alexy, “Apparently, the Creator approves of your actions!” She smiled, “I know you worry about falling out his favor and earning some kind of ‘punishment’ for it, so I made sure to figure out what he thought.” She stood up, rolling her shoulders back and adopting a deep tone, “So, the Patron of Spring is making use of divine punishment eh? Good for him! That’s what mortals are for, after all!” She returned to her own tone of voice with a grin, “Maybe he won’t call his army on you, after all!”

 

Alexy rose an eyebrow, “His… army?” He crossed his arms, “What did you hear?”

 

Peggy shrugged, dipping back into her pool. “Not enough to spread through the grapevine.” She sighed, “I’m only telling you because you’re Alexy, but there’s whispers in the Hall of the Creator of a new kind of Immortal, made by our Creator…” She looked to the side, as though expecting one of these creatures to just pop out of the bushes, “They’re apparently just made to be his secret weapon in case of a rebellion.” Peggy submerged herself completely into her pool with her, “They scare me.”

 

Alexy groaned, “Honestly, I hope you’re wrong.” He didn’t say more than that, knowing that if the Creator was really so paranoid that he’d actually create a contingency plan for if there was a rebellion and have the gear in motion, it wasn’t wise to talk more than necessary about it. His apprehensions about the Creator and the future were cut short by a high pitched shrieking from above his head. Immediately, Alexy held out his hand, Armin’s cockatiel landing on it, a small scroll attached to its leg with a chain. Alexy read the note, “Damn it Castiel!” He crushed the paper in his hand, running off.

 

“What did he do!?” Peggy called out, sounding entirely too excited at the news. When she was ignored, she grumbled, dipping back into her pool, “I’ll find out later anyways.

 

Alexy found Castiel with Lysander, the two lying in the grass and leaning against their deer. They didn’t hear the Deity approach, and conversed. “I don’t like that girl,” Castiel grumbled. “She smells… wrong.”

 

“I don’t think either of us are in the position to talk,” Lysander laughed. “We’re both in need of a good bathing.”

 

“That’s just it though… she smells too clean, but she doesn’t smell like soap.” Castiel snickered, “Though it is fun to watch her hang off of you like a lovesick cat.”

 

Alexy came out through the brush, “If you guys are done talking about personal grooming, I’d like to talk about my prisoner.” He crossed his arms, irritated at the lack of concern from either the Faun or the Hound, both of whom clearly expected the Patron’s arrival. While the note only mentioned Castiel in the incident, it was clear that Lysander condoned his actions. “You crossed a line.”

 

Castiel shrugged indifferently, “He tried to kill one of the deer, so you make him your pet?” He glared at Alexy, standing up to face him. “That’s not an equal punishment and you know it.”

 

Alexy didn’t back down at Castiel’s look, but rather stared back stoically, “You lived with the humans. You know how important hunting is to them. He wasn’t evilly hunting sacred deer, and was stupidly thinking that the stories of this place weren’t real.” Alexy sighed, “I’m not going to smite mortals for being dummies. You know that isn’t my style.”

 

Castiel was unaffected, “I don’t care if he was trying to cast some magical spell to save a million orphans. He tried to hurt my family.”

 

Alexy turned his gaze to Lysander, “You’ve been quiet.”

 

Lysander shrugged as well, “In my experience, intention means little to the end result,” Castiel shuffled uncomfortably and he continued, standing up next to his friend in a show of solidarity.  “My herd is fine, and I am grateful for that. Were they not…” He looked at Castiel as he spoke, “I would be less predictable in my rage than Castiel is.”

 

Alexy ignored the chill in his spine at Lysander’s words. “Promise me that you won’t touch Kentin again,” he ordered. “A crime against you is a crime against me, and if you don’t like how I handle it, you’ll just have to deal with.”

 

“Whatever,” Castiel yawned and stretched. “Just wanted to scare the little punk.”

 

Alexy groaned, turning around to return home. He took back everything he said earlier about having easier charges than the others.

  
  


The three residents of the little cabin were all three in separate corners of the room. Kentin sat, his back against the wall, carving into his small block of wood, Cookie sleeping peacefully beside him, undisturbed by the two cockatiels babbling away just a few feet away. In the kitchen, Armin was grumbling over a thick black pot, practicing his Alchemy. While he complained before, Alexy was right about this being his hobby of choice, as it gave him some power and he loved separating components from ingredients and figuring out what they would make, he just needed to separate that from the academia and bound books that he defined his Alchemy by previously. Finally, Alexy was sitting by the window, thumbing through a colorful book a girl in the village had given him during his and Armin’s last visit. Spring had officially ended, and time was all theirs.

 

Alexy stood up, waking Cookie. “I’m bored,” he announced, looking at the other two for entertainment. 

 

Armin didn’t look up from his pot, “Get a hobby then,” he grumbled, “Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

 

“That’s different,” Alexy laughed. “My livelihood is making Spring happen, and yours is just sitting on your butt!” He ducked to dodge the spoon Armin threw at his head and dived over to where Kentin was working, “You’re not getting out of this either,” he teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s do something fun!”

 

Kentin grumbled, “I’m fine the way I am, entertain yourself.” It didn’t take long for Kentin to learn that Alexy was all bark and no bite when it came to his threats, and while he was fun to spend time with, he was also the most irritating person to be around.

 

Alexy sighed, “How would you guys feel about going to the village soon? I want some new books, and promised Leigh some fabric made from silk.” He put his head on Kentin’s arms, bringing out his best puppy-dog eyes, “Pleeeeeeeeease?”

 

Kentin shrugged, setting his block down. “I’m alright with going. I’d get a chance to see my family and let them know I’m alive.” The silence following that statement was an awkward one. Alexy didn’t even consider that Kentin existed in the moments before their encounter, much less the years it would take for a family to exist as well. “I don’t live with my parents, but they’d still appreciate the warning.”

 

Armin swore, throwing his hands in the air, “I’m all for it! This stupid concoction isn’t working anyways!” He grabbed a bag of money from a cupboard and threw it at Alexy (who was better at not losing things than Armin), before running out the door, leaving it open. Alexy ran out after Armin laughing, and Kentin paused mid cut. Cookie stared at the wide open door before looking at his master in confusion.

 

“... I guess we’re going to town today then.”

  
  


Kentin decided very quickly that he did not like trips to the village. You would think that he would have some kind of edge, it being his hometown and all, but he was delegated to pack mule. His muscles could handle the load, no problem, but it was definitely embarrassing to walk through town behind the two brothers with arms full of fabric and bottles of weird things. It didn’t help when girls, some of them very cute, excitedly approached Kentin asking how he knew the famous Alexy and Armin, and if he knew what kinds of girls they like.

 

**_GAG_ **

 

Kentin didn’t even bother looking up when a girl shyly approached him. “I don’t know what kind of girls either of them are into. Leave me alone.”

 

She paused, started by his tone, before venturing, “Um, are you Kentin, by chance?” He looked over at the girl, petite and with soft lavender hair, her big grey eyes averted in a blush. “M-my name is Violette, and I…” she paused, trying to find the right words, “I guess I ‘work with’ Alexy.” She smiled, and Kentin felt a sudden weight on his shoulder with the realization that he was talking to another Immortal. “A lot of people have been talking about you, and I wanted to know what kind of person you were.”

 

“W-what kind of person I am?” It was Kentin’s turn to stammer, nervous about the weight of words he hadn’t formed yet. “I’m not sure how to answer that…”

 

“I am,” she assured him, holding up a paper pad. She opened the pad, and he saw himself in it, rendered with splashes of bright colors. “You’re green, new and fresh. You think you’ve aged more than you have, and it makes you brash, and you don’t want anyone to see the gold you once were. You’re red from people seeing that gold, and it gets redder as you try and hide it, but it only makes your greenness more obvious.” Violette grinned, “You’re a good person, albeit naive.”

 

“Of course he is!” Violette immediately blushed a bright pink and Kentin groaned, feeling Alexy plop entirely too much of his weight against the mortal’s back. “He would be in an entirely different situation if he wasn’t! A much more painful one!” Kentin did not consider himself a particularly intuitive person, but it was obvious to him as Violette averted her eyes and steadily grew redder and redder that she had feelings for the Deity. “Violette here is a Muse!” Alexy began excitedly explaining to Kentin, oblivious to the girl’s sheepishness in his presence. He unplastered himself from Kentin’s back, facing the two of them as he talked, his hands illustrating his thoughts with wild gestures. “The Muse of Visual Art, to be exact! Her mere presence inspires the creative juices of mortal artists, even if she’s unseen!” He winked, “... and she’s not a bad artist herself!”

 

“Thank you, Alexy,” Violette smiled, smiling shyly. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

 

“Any time!” Alexy grinned, pulling Kentin into a headlock playfully. “We’ll need to talk later, Violette! It’s time for me to meet the people responsible for the creation of my new toy!” Alexy started dragging Kentin away, who craned his neck to look at the spot where Violette was standing, only finding air now.

 

“She seemed nice,” Kentin said, trying to see Alexy’s reaction to the implication of sweet feelings from the girl. 

 

Alexy grinned, “She’s very nice! Since the Muses spend their time surrounded by humans, they aren’t as stuck-up as a lot of Immortals.” He shrugged, “A lot of them see humans are worthless or less.”

 

_ Says the one who refers to me as a thing…  _ Kentin thought to himself with a grumble.

  
  


“Why didn’t you tell them the truth?” Alexy asked Kentin, the trio beginning their journey back to the cabin. Kentin was no longer stuck with pack mule duty, and all three of them carried their own goods. Alexy, with his arms full of fabrics, clothing, and pattern books; Armin with jars and books and things that smelled absolutely rancid (because they’re not good if they don’t stink); Kentin had home-cooked food and clothes from his mom, some knives and arrows from his father, and some toys and treats bought for Cookie. Alexy shifted his load for a better carrying position and continued, “You didn’t need to act like this was just some kind of vacation for you.”

 

Armin laughed, “Come on! Can you imagine if we told Mom and Dad that we were in servitude to… I don’t know, the Creator? They would lose their minds!” He grinned at Kentin, “Our little Kennykins isn’t in trouble here, so why make his parents worry?” Alexy grumbled, not enjoying being the one who was wrong while Armin was the right one.

 

The three approached their home, where Cookie was waiting, tail wagging in anticipation of the gifts his master surely got for him. Kentin threw one of the bones, beaming at the excitement as Cookie’s day instantly became infinitely better. However, his smile quickly faded as he met the gaze of a tall Faun, antlers large and intimidating with cold eyes to match. He took a step back, bumping into Alexy’s chest in the process. Alexy yelled, “Leigh! I got those fabrics you wanted! These ones are made from some kind of foreign silk, and are much softer than the kind you can produce around here!” Alexy walked past Kentin excitedly, handing the parcels to Leigh, who in turn kept his gaze firmly planted on Kentin.

 

Armin placed a hand on Kentin’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t worry. Leigh’s not going to hurt you.” He appreciated the gesture… but Armin had literally said the same thing after the incident with Castiel, so Kentin didn’t put much weight into those words. It didn’t reassure him any more when Leigh walked right past the Patron of Spring and stood in front of Kentin, eyes devoid of emotion. Armin seemed tense, his grip on Kentin tightening. “You’ll be fine,” he muttered again, less sure this time.

 

Leigh didn’t say a word, simply staring at Kentin, his eyes full of judgement. The mortal fidgeted under the glare, and Leigh spoke, “You were lucky.” He didn’t say another thing, before walking off, ignoring the calls from Alexy. 

 

Kentin groaned, walking into the cabin and throwing himself onto a seat, “You are all terrible for my health,” he growled, wishing that he’d thought to borrow some alcohol from his father for this trip. “What about the others… Lysander and Rosalya? Are they going to threaten me next? How about Violette?”

 

“You’re fine!” Alexy assured Kentin, placing a hand on his head. He was startled as Kentin slapped the hand away, standing up to face the Deity with rage in his green eyes. 

 

“I am so tired of you two saying that!” He yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “Every time something happens you’re so quick to pat my head and tell me everything’s alright! Are you aware that I have a dog!? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing!?” Kentin threw his hands up in the air, adopting a mimicking high-pitched tone, “The little human is upset! Let’s tell him everything is okay so that his pesky feelings don’t cause an inconvenience!” 

 

“Kentin, we don’t think-”

 

Kentin cut Alexy off, this time lowering his voice tauntingly, “So many Immortals look down on humans, but not me! I know so because I say it, and since I’m an Immortal and you’re mortal that means I’m right and you’re wrong.” He gave an exasperated sigh, “I understand that I’m being punished, but I’d appreciate not being treated like a naughty child that stole cookies before dinner.” 

 

Kentin grabbed a cloak, leaving the cabin, muttering “I’m not running away,” as he passed Alexy. Cookie stood up to follow, but a quick gesture from Kentin made the pooch sit back down, another sign that he would return. He didn’t walk far, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to find his way back. He made it to a small grove of trees, groaning as he leaned against one, trying to enjoy the solace for as long as possible. 

 

Kentin wasn’t stupid, he knew that what he was going through was nothing compared to the nightmares that Alexy had described for him, but he also didn’t know what to make of what he had been dealing with for the past number of weeks. Alexy and Armin wanted to close their eyes and pretend that they made a new friend, and liked teasing the mortal. While those moments irritated him as they happened, they didn’t bother the hunter. He knew they were just trying to rile him up the same way they goaded each other into tantrums from time to time, and it was a sign of affection. Rather, it was the other times that bothered him, when they made comments about other Immortals and such, like they were actively othering Kentin in their slight ways. Even Armin, who considered himself mortal by his own words, was always eager to separate himself from  _ mere _ humans in the village.

 

He sighed, shutting his eyes. As much fun as some of the moments were… he just couldn’t wait for the year to be over. “Are you alright?” Kentin’s eyes shot open, seeing a tall man in front of him. His hair was a fluffy mass of brown with eyes to match. He was crouched down to Kentin’s level, worry in his eyes. “Humans need to sleep in homes, not outside where they can catch a sickness.”

 

“I’m just out here for a little while,” Kentin replied apprehensively, already aware that he was talking to another Immortal. “I’m staying with Alexy and Armin.”

 

“Oh, so you’re the Twins’ new friend!” The man smiled, standing up.    
  


Kentin felt awkward, realizing it was the first time anyone used that word to describe him. “I’m not sure if ‘friend’ really is the word they would use to describe me,” he muttered.

 

“Perhaps,” the man agreed. “I find though, that everyone is bad with the words they choose for everyone else.” He crossed his arms, deep in thought, “I saw a girl with paper who called a boy with warmth ‘my heart’ without saying so, never knowing that he couldn't even dream call her the same.”

 

“A girl with paper?” Kentin raised an eyebrow at the odd language.

 

The man nodded, “I’m not good with the words for everyone else either,” he admitted. “The boy with warmth is one of the Twins, and the girl with paper is one of the Muses.”  _ Alexy and Violette… _ Kentin realized, and the man continued. “The boy with warmth knows that she calls him her heart, but does not realize he knows… Rather, he doesn’t want to know, because acknowledging it means talking about it, and the words will hurt her.” He shook his head irritably, “I’m really bad with words… my brother can weave them like a spiderweb, but I just try what I can.”

 

Kentin felt like he was venturing into unsafe territory, but ignored the instinct and asked, “Why can’t Alexy return Violette’s feelings? She’s really kind, and he seems to think highly of her.”

 

“I can’t say. Or rather, I won’t.” The man stared off in the direction where the cabin was, “It’s his biggest secret.” He muttered, “It hurts him so much to keep everything in. He doesn’t hate it, but everyone else might. Who would leave him if they knew? Or hurt him?” He furrowed his brow, “Worse… they might hurt the immortal mortal. He needs the warm boy to live.” Kentin didn’t entirely understand what the strange Immortal was talking about, but he was able to piece together that Alexy had a secret that could hurt Armin if anyone found out. The man smiled, “You’re worried now. Friends do that.”

 

“It’s just human decency,” Kentin muttered, feeling embarrassed.

 

The man shook his head feverishly, “No, there’s no ‘just human’ to you,” He paused, face brightening as though reaching a breakthrough, “There’s no ‘just human’ for any human…” He shook his head to avoid the distraction, and continued “The Twins only shut you out to keep the secret safe. It’s an accident. They do it to everyone.” He stared at Kentin fiercely, “The immortal mortal wants to protect his brother, and the other way as well. They want to protect you too, but they don’t know how yet. They’re trying.”

 

Kentin smiled, “I understand what you’re getting at… sort of.” He sighed, “I know they’re not bad guys… I just don’t want to be treated like I’m less.” The man smiled, and Kentin asked a question he suspected would not encourage a straight answer, “Why did you talk to me?”

 

“I was here,” the man said, “You were here. You felt… you felt things. I felt them too, and would until you stopped feeling them.” He smiled, “You still feel them a little, but it’s alright. The feeling is smaller now, and you can think again.” He held a finger up to his lips, “This is a secret. Not big like the warm boy’s secret, but big like my secret. I am not allowed to be here.” He waved, before disappearing right in front of Kentin’s eyes, the mortal slightly disturbed at just how undisturbed this blatant display of power left him, which he blamed on recent events.

 

This didn’t solve Kentin’s problems. He still had a crime to attone for, people to earn forgiveness from, others to earn respect from, and a sentence to serve… but the future felt less nerve-wracking than it did moments ago. Now, it felt more like an empty page, ready for the picture that Kentin’s hand was needed for, even if his ideas were still fuzzy and undefined. He began his trek back to the cabin, mind open to letting a friendship bud between him and the brothers who kept him captive.


End file.
